Fictitious Facts
by ducklinsprepare
Summary: I never thought I'd be reincarnated, and even if I did, I never thought it would be into the world of Harry Potter. Yes, life as a character in a fictional universe was decidedly hard, but let's not complain. Even if you are living in the same orphanage as one particular psychopath named Tom Riddle.
1. Chapter 1

Chapter 1

It was just my luck to get thrown back in time. I hadn't exactly been expecting it - because really? What sane person would? - but when I some seconds later found myself surrounded by what looked to be architecture from some fifty years ago, I wasn't as surprised as I thought I would've been when putting myself into a similar scenario. It was like some of my feelings were numbed, and so I wasn't as hysteric as one would believe. No, as the settings around me morphed from asphalt and tall, imposing skyscrapers into cobalt streets and houses made of simple wood and plain bricks, I merely stood there, mouth agape (and though I would never admit it; some drool pooling in the corner).

I didn't feel any fundamental differences, just the nauseous feeling that settled in the pit of my stomach, refusing to give in. I felt like barfing but forcefully held it in, not wanting the acid flavor to be tasted in my mouth, making the situation any worse than it already was.

Between my struggle of keeping the contents of my stomach from leaving my body and the confusion that came with being placed in a new environment, I couldn't quite focus on what as going on around me. Therefore, the sound of a blaring honk startled me so badly I jumped a little, starting to turn around to face the cause of the noise, when I found that my balance was quite of, leaving me to stumble, before falling to the ground in what seemed to be one motion. It happened so fast and I grimaced at the pain that my bottom endured.

Ignoring the shouting of the angry man inside of the old-model-car, I struggled to stand up, placing my feet firmly on the stone and focusing. Looking up, I felt there was something majorly off, but it took some time before I could properly point my finger at it.

Everything looked a lot bigger - the cars, the people, the houses, and it felt as if I was smaller. Which I, some seconds later to that, found out was exactly the case. Removing myself from the bustling road in order to not be run over, I stumbled to the sidewalk, spotting my reflection in a store window.

I nearly tripped again. Making sudden gestures at the window, I made sure that who I saw was really me and I felt the panic within me rise, only to be calmed again by whatever was keeping me from freaking out. Pinching myself, I didn't wake up and pinching myself again definitely didn't help. My arm now sore, I settled for studying myself closer.

I was a lot shorter - due to being in another body. The girl in the window reflection was young, still a child, baby fat evident in her face. Her hair was blond - the opposite of my color of brown before - and her eyes a deep brown. She had big eyes and a cute little button nose, all in all forming the image of a sweet little girl at the age of, maybe around seven. Not my actual age, 19, and I had a hard time wrapping my head around all of this.

No, never-mind a hard time, it was _impossible_. I found no explanation as to what was happening and my surroundings didn't exactly help. It looked like sometime in the twentieth or thirtieth century, judging from the appearances of people, buildings and cars. When in that time, or even where, I had no idea.

But it really did feel like someone was pushing aside my distress, bringing with them the warm feeling of calmness. I stood still, contemplating some moments before I finally came to terms with not coming to terms with the situation and decided to find out some answers to the questions I had.

Turning to the nearest pedestrian, I opened my mouth, only to find the person I had directed my attention towards swerving to the side to avoid me. Surprised, my mouth hanged open for a few seconds before I collected myself. Why did she avoid me?

I stared after her, puzzled, then turned to another person, this time a man. Wearing a business suit and coat, he looked relaxed as he walked, his suitcase swinging with ease by his side.

I put on a smile and took a step towards him. "Mister," I started, unsure of how to address someone, was this actually the twentieth century. Thankfully, I must have done something right, as the man stopped and looked down on me.

His face was kind and I breathed out a sigh of relief when he smiled questioning, "Yes?"

I smiled even bigger, "Where is this?"

The question stunned him and he looked at me with surprise before finally answering. "Eh, London," he said, scrunching up his eyebrows, but still managing to keep the smile on his face. "Are you lost?"

I nodded, trying my best to look timid and scared. The man's gaze softened as I fidgeted with my hands, appearing to be nervous. "Where are your parents?" He asked, sympathetically.

I shook my head, avoiding his gaze. "I have none." It wasn't a lie.

The man looked at me a little longer, then kindly offered his hand. "Do you live at the orphanage down the road?"

I nodded, having nowhere else to go anyway. "Mister?" I asked as he started leading the way down the street. He glanced at me, giving me an encouraging smile to keep talking.

"What year is it?"

At this, the man looked a little taken aback and he stammered some before speaking. "1934."

I almost froze in my tracks but managed to keep pace with the man. "Right," I whispered with wide eyes. "1934."

What the heck?

* * *

The kind man led me towards what looked to be a haunted house, then stopped in front of the looming gates. Absentmindedly, I noted the sign that said _Wool's Orphanage_ but didn't pay more attention to it, even as the warning bells started going off inside my head like the name was supposed to be familiar. That was some serious Dejá Vu.

"Here," he said and let go of my hand, gesturing towards the gates that surrounded the building. I nodded and smiled gratefully up at him.

"Thank you, mister."

The man nodded back, smiling. "Of course." Then he turned and started walking away, his suitcase swinging by his side.

I turned back toward the entrance and, hesitant, opened the squeaking gate, slipping in and closing it behind. The sun was starting to descend, and with the sky covered with rain clouds that had yet to be fit to fall, it was darkening quickly. I had to find shelter, and that came before anything else for the time being.

Cautiously approaching the dark orphanage, I shivered and glanced down at the clothes I was wearing. No wonder that woman stepped out of her path to avoid me, I was dressed like a beggar.

The clothes were too big for me, and even if that might not have been a problem, they were also unbelievably dirty. However, this did help with the image I was currently working out in my head, depicting me as a poor, sad child without any parents, desperately in need of help.

Which was kind of the case anyway.

Standing in front of the door, I collected my thoughts and took a deep breath before I knocked, prepared to face whatever was to meet me on the other side.

Someone inside yelled, then I heard some footsteps coming closer before arriving at the door, opening it to see who it was. With wide, innocent eyes, I met the gaze of another woman, making sure to look as pitiful as possible.

"Hi," I said with a timid voice and I could see the surprise in her face at the sight of me. Then she gathered herself and though with a frown, smiled as she spoke, "Hello dear, who are you?"

I gulped tried to look distressed, though I failed at forcing any tears. "I- my parents aren't- please- I need-"

The woman seemed to get what I meant and quickly stepped aside, letting me inside. "Of course, come in, please."

I stepped inside and was then directed towards a room to the left, moving through the hallway and into what appeared to be an office. Another woman was sitting behind a desk, in the process of writing something, when the slightly younger woman knocked, catching her attention.

"Mrs Cole, I believe this girl is in need of our help," said she, gesturing towards me. The woman behind the desk glanced at me, removing her glasses to place them on the table littered with paper.

She who was called Mrs Cole smiled kindly at me, then nodded towards the other woman, "Thank you, Martha. Please see so that the other kids are within their rooms before curfew. I'll take care of this little one."

Martha nodded and left me alone with Mrs Cole. I smiled hesitantly at her, a smile which she returned. She gestured towards one of the chairs placed before the desk and I took a seat.

"What's your name?" She asked and I fiddled a little with my hands before answering, not meeting her gaze, playing the part of a shy child perfectly. Really, I should get an Oscar for my acting.

"Emma. Harlan," I told her. Then I proceeded to jump into an explanation of why I was there and how I needed help as I didn't have any parents or family left. Mrs Cole interrupted me, trying to calm my stressed state.

"No relatives?"

I shook my head and she sighed.

"We'll get the paperwork fixed tomorrow." She stood up and smiled, though I could see her tiredness in the form of dark bags underneath her eyes, "Don't you worry dear, everything will be fine."

Mrs Cole went around the table, offering her hand. "Let's get you some new clothes and food, why don't we?"

Grateful, I took her hand and stood up from the chair, following her as she leads the way towards the kitchen.

Dressed in new, cleaner clothes, although I could clearly see how old they were, and fed, calming my stressed stomach, Mrs Cole then showed me towards an empty room, a little down the hallway full of others.

"You can take this room for the time being. No one will bother you."

I smiled, "Thank you."

"No worries. Now-" Mrs Cole was suddenly interrupted by the door a couple of rooms away being opened and her whole demeanour changed, from a warm, kind woman, to a cold, annoyed one. The boy having evoked the change in behaviour was standing in the doorway and Mrs Cole glared at him. "Riddle, get back into your room now."

The boy didn't listen, though I perked up at his name. What was said next by Mrs Cole in a stern, however, startled me completely,

"Tom."

My breath caught in my throat and I felt my eyes going wide. "Tom Riddle?" My voice was hoarse as I whispered the dreaded name, staring at the boy in shock. "No."

My breath started coming in short puffs and it was getting harder to breathe. I was hyperventilating, and the panic that had been forcefully suppressed before came back in full force, this time without anything stopping it. "No. No. NO."

They were both staring at me, but I was still stuck with my gaze on the young boy. My mind was racing as all the revelations hit me at once. I spoke, my voice growing gradually louder as I swore and said, "Harry Potter. Witches, wizards, muggles… Tom… Dumledoor… Freaking Hogwash."

I couldn't breathe anymore and saw everything flicker before my eyes.

It was not enough to just send me back in time in another body- no, I had to be sent back in time in another body in the _Harry Potter universe._

What. The. Heck?

It simply became too much for me to handle and the dark spots were covering my vision rapidly. My head was light and I only managed one last gasp before I fell in a passed-out heap to the floor, exhausted, confused and utterly lost. Not to mention angry.

Thankfully, the blissful darkness embraced me, and I could think no more.


	2. Chapter 2

Chapter 2

When I woke up, it was to the sun streaming into the room I was currently in, nestled into the covers of the bed as I was. It took some time to force my tired eyes open, feeling like I hadn't slept in days, yet still just waking up from a dream.

It took even more time before my mind caught up with the recent events and when I finally did, several minutes later, I was staring blankly in front of me, not a hint of emotion appearing on my face. Questions like how, why and what made their way in my mind. It was too overwhelming, like thinking about the reason for our living, or our universal place in the galaxy and beyond. I just simply couldn't wrap my head around it all, and though appearing... at least some resemblance to calm on the outside, I felt myself freaking out on the inside. Which was completely understandable, considering my predicament.

I mean, considering the heavy amount of evidence laid before me, I could almost guess that I was somewhere in the Harry Potter universe. Which was not an easy thing to admit, considering the sheer impossibility of it all. Besides, I was a little reluctant to believe what was happening.

It wasn't like there was a manual to follow for situations like this. That would've been a little too helpful, right? I groaned and placed my hands over my eyes, trying to think as I struggled with gathering any coherent thoughts.

As it was right now, I had no information. I didn't even know if this was J.K Rowlings manufactured world. For all I knew, maybe I was just in another body and it just so happened that I found an orphanage housing a boy named Tom Riddle in what looked to be the era of his story.

Yes, that was probably it; I had been randomly transferred back in time and all of this was just a mere coincidence!

Or, this was just a dream and I was in a coma. Though, that made even less sense to me, taking into account I was not a Harry Potter fan and knew next to nothing about all of this. No way even my subconscious would be able to dream this up.

Personally, I thought the idea of all of this being a coincidence way more probable…

Thinking about it that way, even my most plausible theory did not make much sense or smarts.

A sudden noise startled me out of my thoughts and I snapped my head up to stare at the door opening.

The woman - the one who had received me, Martha - carefully poked her head inside and at seeing me, she fully opened the door to step inside. I caught sight of a plate in her hands as she closed the door.

She smiled at me, but still having my thoughts in a disarray, I couldn't bother to smile back.

"I'm happy you're up," she said as she placed the plate I could now see carried a small portion of breakfast on the little table beside the bed I was occupying. The food looked meager, but still, I found my stomach growling with hunger at the sight of it. "Do help yourself," Martha said and gestured for me to start eating. I gladly obliged.

She pulled out a chair and sat, all the while silently observing me. The stare, although kind and somewhat pitying, made me uncomfortable and after having eaten a sufficient amount to at least still the hunger some, I put the plate down and met her gaze with an inquiring face.

Sensing my unasked question, she smiled carefully before she began talking, "Emma, was it?"

I nodded.

"How are you feeling?" She asked.

I shrugged, "I feel okay. A little tired."

Martha nodded understandably as she gave me a sympathetic smile. "I understand. As you know, I'm Martha and this is Wool's Orphanage."

She paused as if waiting for my reaction. I gave none, only nodding with her words.

She continued, "As of yet, we haven't been able to find anyone looking for you and until we get everything sorted out, you will be staying here. You're in good hands. Mrs. Cole, the matron, is the most capable person I know. She will take good care of you, as will I."

Somewhere in the back of my mind, it registered that "capable" did not translate to "kind". I kept quiet and she smiled. "You have nothing to worry about, dear."

Finally, I gave a little minuscule smile in her direction and I could see my response, however small it was, calmed her. Taking a deep breath and exhaling after a short pause, her smile renewed to be even brighter.

* * *

I could feel Tom's interest in me as he observed me, even as I tried my very hardest to stay out of his path. I avoided him at every possible occasion, never really wishing to be in the same room as him and definitely not alone. Still, his gaze shifted to me. Inquiring. Curious. Wary.

And I definitely did not want to catch any more of his already growing attention. It was my fault for passing out in such a dramatic way and now it seemed I was paying for my earlier foolish actions.

However, when I wasn't tirelessly dedicating my time to steer clear of Riddle, I was simply trying to fit in. Which was easier said than done.

Not only were these children at least a third my mental age, but they were also children from a whole other age and era. I didn't know about the customs of the thirties and I had no idea of how to act.

In the beginning, I merely did my best to stay unnoticeable and quiet, which fortunately seemed to work. At first, the other kids were curious about me, but as normal kids do, they quickly lost interest.

The matrons were harder to get off my tail. They continued asking questions to which I had no answer, but even as they were concerned, it appeared my behavior did not worry them. I figured they had probably had to deal with similar kids who refused to speak about their background, especially after I learned about the Great Depression which had, quite frankly, devastating effects on the state and was still ongoing.

Despite the economic disaster, it seemed that even though run-down, the orphanage was clean and the residents cared for. It was some consolation that I had a roof over my head and food that kept me satisfied, even in my current situation.

And even when I clearly didn't fit in among the other kids with ages ranging from infants to seventeen-year-olds, I did my best to integrate myself with the others.

* * *

The orphanage housed a wide area of varied kinds of kids. Some were reclusive like me and others were outgoing and carefree. Those kids were often on the younger side, not remembering the early years of coming here. They laughed and smiled, a great contrast to the gloomy teenagers reminiscing their days of family now lost.

While I wasn't gloomy, I wasn't exactly carefree either. My mind was plagued by troubles and I will admit to never have been the smartest kid, not even in my… life before this. I still didn't know what to make of everything and it felt like I was still as lost as when I first came here.

So the first weeks of being here were spent silent and observing, trying to figure everything out. I had to establish if this actually was the Harry Potter universe and not something else. Right now, no theories were too impossible, as I felt I had crossed over that line some time ago.

In order to find out whether this was a fantasy world or not with what pitifully little information I had, the first step was obviously gathering more intelligence. And that was not only done observing, but, tragically enough, through participating.

Yeah, being thrust into a new dimension or whatever was not a fun thing, especially when everything that happened felt like it was only occuring for the mere sake of being inconvenient to me.

Like when I got my first friend.

If you can now call following me around persistently like a lost, but enthusiastic puppy being a "friend". Her name was Maria, and I had no idea of what to do with her.

At the age of six and a half, she was cheerful, eager to please and temperamental - just like any other child. Meaning I really didn't like her.

My efforts at keeping out of trouble and staying silent were squashed as she kept bumping into me with invitations to play or hang out. It wasn't that she was a bad kid, but she was an annoying one.

It was just that the idea of playing hide and seek with a kid not even seven did not sound very tempting to me, even if I may too look to be around that age.

Actually, I didn't know how old I was - or, correction, how old this body was - but after my initial guess at seven years old, I just kind of went with that. It wasn't like anybody could look it up to check if I was wrong. And really, what did it matter if I was a year or two younger or older?

With no background information, my past in this world was what I made it to be and I made it something inconspicuous. So besides my age, all my other personal information was made up by me and the adults would simply have to take my not so trustful words for it. I matched my story with all the others and so I was just one of many kids with the same history. I was, for all intents and purposes, just another regular orphan. Nothing special.

But Maria really didn't seem to get the gist.

I could see it in the way she looked at me; how she thought I was something curious, like an exciting adventure. That, coupled with her overly positive way of being, boded no good for me.

I wanted no attention, but Maria was someone who always brought it to her.

At first, I tried to avoid her too, like I did with Tom, but inlike Tom, Maria didn't care for obscurity and went right up to me when she wanted something. It was counterproductive and I knew I had to quickly do something before I, as a result, gained even more publicity.

At first, it seemed hopeless: everything I did and said only caused the reverence in her eyes when she looked at me to grow. I was simply at loss of how to handle her.

Then the epiphany struck me like lightning did metal towers: if she found me that interesting, then I would just have to redirect her attention elsewhere. And who better as a candidate than our one and only Tom Riddle!

Just joking. As if I would ever send someone into the clutches of that boy, no matter how annoying I thought they were. I wasn't evil, unlike another satanic boy.

No, but seriously, redirecting Maria so that she lost interest in me was probably my best shot at remaining inconspicuous. And soon, the perfect victim arose to volunteer.

Because like Maria was my first "friend", Eric Whalley was my first enemy.


	3. Chapter 3

Chapter 3

Like Maria was my first, but soon to be short-lasting friend in the orphanage, Eric was my first enemy.

Which, between kids, wasn't that overly devastating. In reality, the only person I felt I had anything to truly fear from was Tom, and right now, I thought I was doing a pretty good job of avoiding drawing his fatal wrath.

Maybe I was overreacting about Riddle, but I could take no chances, even with a mere child. He was simply a dangerous being and I would do well remembering that.

In comparison, Eric was like a playground bully. Which, in all honesty, was exactly what he was. Literally.

He was that kind of kid to step on other children's sandcastles, or steal their toys. He was slightly on the big side, which was quite unusual with the rationing that had been taking place. My guess was that it was because he always stole everyone else's food.

I wasn't one to hold grudges, especially not against small kids, but I have to say, Eric really brought out the worst in me.

Not even Maria could get me as worked up, even with her constant blabbering and pestering. Eric was exactly that precise combination of dumb and mean that just made me question my whole existence in some moments.

In short, I really didn't like him.

At first, I payed him no mind. I was an adult and knew myself to be way beyond the mental capacity of these children. I was above what petty, kindergarten insults someone like Eric could spew at me and didn't mind his childish antics.

But it was the little things that made one tick, and soon, all my buttons had managed to be pressed.

Him ruining my first chance of getting adopted by humiliation was simply the last drop.

See, I would have been fine with him doing merely that, if only a bit annoyed, if it hadn't been for all the other things he had done the past week. From stealing my food to tripping me in the hallways, he always managed to do something to piss me off.

Add that to being followed by an overly eager child, I was threading on the edge of my patience.

Therefore, it was perfect when the idea finally hit me and I could get the opportunity to get rid of two birds - or rather children - in one stone.

"Maria," I said and lowered the book in my hands to switch my gaze onto the wide-eyed black-haired little girl sitting across from me.

After the first few days of arriving to the orphanage, I had been placed in a room with another girl, and was now currently sitting on my bed. Maria sat at the end of my bed, coloring an already used color-book.

I had been thinking for some time, and had finally thought up the best strategy to go through with my plan.

"Yeah?" Maria said, eager to hear what I was about to say, ever the impressionable girl.

I smiled sweetly, to which she beamed back. "Don't you think Eric is pretty?"

Of course, I knew she didn't. No girl in the orphanage with any taste for boys would, and Maria was no exception.

Immediately, she crinkled her nose, "Ew."

I smiled a bit bigger, "I heard he fancy you though."

At that, she shook her head, "No- boy cooties."

"He likes collecting stones tho," I told her, shrugging.

At that, she perked up slightly. "Really?"

Honestly, that shouldn't have been a winner argument when trying to get someone to develop interest for someone else. "He collect stones tho" is something you say when you want to empathize how lame someone was.

However, for Maria, not much could catch her attention like stones.

...That sounded really stupid.

I nodded convincingly. "Yeah! I bet you two could go together. He could show you his collection!"

For a couple of seconds, she looked ready to consider it, but then settled for firmly shaking her head. "He's mean. And boy cooties," she reminded me.

It took every last part of me to not let out the biggest, helpless sigh ever. Instead, I laughed.

"Yeah, boy cooties."

And then we didn't talk more about that.

I, however, was just getting started.

The next day, after managing to avoid Maria's attempts at forcing me to play with her, I got started with the next step in my plan.

Finding Eric wasn't hard - you could normally hear the crying kid or two and then guess your way to his location. He was a bit similar to Tom in that aspect, at least. Both left a trail of tears and blood and anguish.

Okay, that may be a bit dramatic - and Tom was way more ruthless than Eric would ever be - but point is, no one likes them.

So when I found Eric in his room, he was alone, as usual.

I had thought this through several times, and coming up with a way to talk to Eric and get him to listen was hard. I had a rough idea of what to do, but I had no idea if it would actually work. He was unpredictable - my only hope what that his unpredictability would lead him down the path I carved, and not somewhere else.

I took a breath, then made my presence known.

"Hi Eric," I said.

The boy in question looked up from his stolen toys and blinked a few times incomprehensibly before grunting.

I smiled my sweetest smile, which in this body was like sugar coated honey. "Maria asked me to tell you that she really likes your stones."

Eric still didn't say anything, though I could see that bit of information surprised him.

"I think she likes you."

Eric was dumb, but he did understand that people talking this way to him wasn't normal. Thankfully, for me, his line of thoughts didn't go further, and so he didn't bother questioning it.

Then I skipped away before he could get the chance to react, a smug smile forming on my face.

The next couple of days, I continued sneaking comments here and there, growing the seed I had now planted. And it appeared to be working. At dinner and whenever they met, I could see Eric looking at Maria with eyes that for once in his life weren't filled with malice. Maria, in turn, caught him looking at her and I noticed her ears turning a dark shade of pink. Really, young love was so simple.

The third day, at dinner, their developing crushes got even more evident, and the successfulness of my actions kept a smile on my face as I ate, even through Marias chatter.

After dinner, when most children had had their fill and were getting ready for bedtime, I walked past a corridor and caught a glimpse of Maria and Eric, talking.

By the way they were looking shyly at each other, each holding a bag of stones, I could safely guess that my plan had succeeded.

Now, my job here was done. I grinned, satisfied.

Then, realization hit me and quickly wiped away the smile.

…

Did I really just play matchmaker for two six-year olds?…

* * *

_**Now, I apologize for any and all grammar and spelling mistakes, which I am sure are there somewhere. **_

_**Hope you enjoyed! **_

_**Please do review to help me improve my writing.**_

_**See you next chapter! Bye**_


	4. Chapter 4

Chapter 4

_After the whole Maria-Eric-incident, as I liked to call it, I thought I would at least be able to catch a break. But, as always, the Fates were working overtime in securing that my life never had a peaceful moment;_

_Dennis Bishop liked me. And not in an endearing way. His attempts at wooing me instead had me frankly running the other way. Unfortunately, running away from Dennis brought me right into the arms of another boy. I couldn't say I appreciated the change._

It started after a month or so after arriving in this world- Dennis' supposedly crush on me. At first, I didn't notice. I hadn't even thought of the _possibility_ of someone taking a liking to me. Sure, I was in a new, admittedly much more adorable body and I was sure that given time, I would grow up to become a beautiful lady. But at the age of seven? I was dumbstruck.

With no way of knowing how to handle this kind of situation, I settled for trying to hide from his affection, but to no avail. Who knew an eight-year-old could be so persistent? Not I, anyhow, which definitely didn't help the situation.

I wasn't a blunt person, or even a very headstrong one, and turning a little boy down was one of my fortes. His attempts kept coming and I felt like they were turning increasingly more creepy as the days passed.

It had started with his.. gift.

It was Wednesday, which meant going to the local park for playtime. I particularly enjoyed these days, as it meant no Riddle present to cause trouble. He usually just opted to stay at the orphanage, and if he did accompany the group, he only did so to sit in a secluded area and read where no one bothered him.

But there was another reason my mood was so good that morning: It was Hanna's or whatever-her-name-was, birthday. I didn't know her personally but birthdays meant celebrations. Though they weren't very big at the orphanage, we always emphasized the day of someone's birth with cookies or something alike. I may be 19 years old, if counting the actual years of memories I had, but cookies were something I would always enjoy.

Because of all of this, I was in a good mood from the beginning and as the caregiver taking care of us for the day settled down and the children spread out to play, I went to sit down by a tree surrounded by various flowers.

The sun was shining unrestricted by clouds and I couldn't help the little smile that formed upon my lips. Coming to terms with my predicament was certainly a hard task, one that I was still working on overcoming. But being here, surrounded by the grass and warm gusts of wind, I found I didn't mind much at the moment.

It was admittedly better than my previous life. While not extremely horrible, it wasn't exactly a dream life either. I didn't have much to anchor me and make me miss my old world anyway, which in any other case probably would've been sad. As it was now, however, I was glad I didn't have anything in particular to miss overly much as that surely would've just added to the anguish of being placed in a whole other world.

A sudden clearing of throat swiftly brought me out of my musings and I looked up quizzical. It was Dennis - I think that was his name - the boy from two rooms away. He stood with a determined face and looked at me as though I was a challenge he had to overcome. I waited for him to say something and when he realized he had my attention, he spoke, "Emma. Do you want to play with us?"

I leaned a little to the right to look past Dennis, catching sight of some of the other kids. They were by the playground, playing some game that had them running around. The girls were giggling amongst themself, while the boys attempted to look… manly, I guess? Considering their age, it proved to be a very hard thing to do, as everything they did or said was mostly considered "cute" by the adults, and their attempts were looked down upon as only the quirks of young, adorable kids. In short, their behaviour had me amused.

I smiled a little as I turned back to him, shaking my head apologetically. "Sorry, I'm picking flowers for a collection." At least, that was my excuse. I didn't exactly fancy the thought of running around with kids not even half my age, playing some game made for the purpose of entertaining children, when I would rather be by myself.

It seemed my wishes were not be answered, however, as the boy remained where he stood. He still had that determined look on his face while the other kids continued their playing. I just sat there, regarding him with raised eyebrows.

"I'll help," he suddenly offered, with that cheerfulness only kids could posses. I smiled slightly and nodded, though inwardly I was sighing deeply - a sigh suggesting a life lived through trials and hardships, and definitely not befitting someone with only seven years of experience in living. It seemed my quiet afternoon was ruined.

"Sure!" I answered and he beamed, enthusiastically starting to pluck some flowers that caught his attention. While I didn't mind the company, I would much rather go without it, and inside, I was longing for when I could finally start attending school and meet older people, or just in general growing up and be able to talk to people capable of holding intelligent and meaningful conversations for a change.

Dennis helped me gather some flowers, all the while humming a little to himself as he showed me the occasional pretty flower. I tried to be kind, smiling and nodding at him, but I was itching to be left alone and had to suppress a passive-aggressive behaviour, or simply lashing out.

"Look, Emma!" At his call, I turned towards him with a plastered smile, prepared to say something like "cool", or "beautiful", when my words got stuck in my throat. He wasn't holding a flower - he was showing me a bug kept firmly in place as he almost squashed it with his thumb and index finger.

Now, honestly, I was not a fan of insects. They creeped me out and after several bad experiences with them, both in this life and the one before, I really couldn't stand even looking at them.

I stammered some, staring at the bug. Finally, I said, "Ew, put it back."

Dennis continued smiling, taking a what I perceived to be a needlessly ominous step closer to me. He raised the hand with the squirming bug as if to give it to me. "It's for you."

As he took a step forward, I backed one. "Err… No thanks, Dennis."

He looked a little disappointed, before dropping the insect and then stomping on it. The insect finally out of sight, I could let out a relaxed breath.

I may be an adult, mental-wise, but I had never gotten over my fear for bugs, nor did I actively plan to confront it.

Anyhow, that should have been my first clue something was going on. Unfortunately, with the insect right in my face, I didn't notice the reasons behind the attempt, as I was more afraid of the bug I was facing. I hadn't realized until it was seemingly too late for me to calmly end his endeavours. And thus, here I was.

Dennis' crush only grew as the weeks passed, but as ignorant as I was, I didn't notice anything, though I should have. He would always come to seek me in his spare time, eager to talk about his day, bragging about various, frankly insignificant things. For example;

I was just done with my chores before dinner, having settled myself in the room I shared with another girl named Amanda who was out somewhere else for the moment, reading a book borrowed from the local library. In truth, I had already read it, but seeing as there was no other worthy material to browse, I was stuck rereading.

The door to my room was opened, rather loudly may I say, and Dennis took some steps in, looking at me smugly. I placed my book down, barely managing to refrain the sigh that would've otherwise escaped me.

"What Dennis?" I wasn't unkind and at my question, his expression became even smugger.

"Tom is getting grounded again," he started, looking at me as though it was news I should be happy about. I raised my eyebrows, not answering. He continued on his own, "I told Mrs. Cole, he stole my car, then hid it in his room. Tom couldn't say a thing!"

It had been a month since he had plucked flowers with me, and from that time, it seemed everything he did was something he felt the need to share with me. I was not of the same sentiment.

"Oh really?" I asked, clearly showing my disinterest in the topic as I kept glancing back at the book. He looked a little stumped at that but then decided to talk again, puffing up his chest.

"Me and Billy are going to take his book - you know, that weird one his always reading," he tried. I almost grimaced at that. Why were they deliberately provoking him? Though only around eight years old, it seemed they were already developing to become bullies, though I knew they didn't fully understand their own actions. "Do you want to come?"

I shook my head, trying to convey my lack of interest in stealing something from another kid. "No, I'm reading," I answered him, pointing at my book in my lap as if it wasn't obvious.

Dennis got quiet, looking at the book with crinkled eyebrows and a scrunched up nose. "You read too much. You're not like him, are you?" He looked suspiciously at me and I tried to smile.

"Of course not," I said and laughed, completely throwing Tom under the bus. Not that I cared for him, but I still felt it wrong to openly harass a child. I didn't want to be a part of that and nor did I want to get murdered in my sleep. But I didn't very well want to suffer the same fate as him either- being bullied by his peers. Right now, I was in a vulnerable body and there was nothing I could do against an assault. I tried to keep as neutral as possible - if only this kid would stop pestering me for once.

"Tom is weird," I said and Dennis immediately agreed, nodding, his suspicious gaze gone.

"He is," he said and straightened up. "Bye." Then he left.

I sighed and stood up to close the door after him, falling back down onto my bed like a rag-doll with a large outtake of air. I really needed to get rid of Dennis before he dragged me into something serious involving the strange boy Tom.


	5. Chapter 5

Chapter 5

The months passed by, not exactly quick, but at a durable pace. I was mostly left to my own devices, reading, doing chores or small talking with the matrons. Being in a seven-year-old body with the mind of a nineteen-year-old made it much easier to get the adults to like me. All I had to do was act polite, be cute and not cause trouble. Being the perfect child I was, they mostly let me do what I wanted and I managed to require several more books from the library, all beyond the usual comprehension of someone my actual biological age. By the third month of being there, I was considered a prodigy, vastly different from the other smart kid they had in the house. I could sometimes hear them talking about it; how polite and kind and smart I was, and what an awful boy they thought Tom was. They weren't exactly wrong though.

By the children, I was more known as that girl "who always read" and "doesn't say much", but they were mostly unbothered by it. I was kind, shared my toys and sometimes even entertained them with a story or two. They didn't bother me too often and didn't seem to mind my quiet nature.

Dennis was another case. Constantly bugging me, he initiated conversation whenever the opportunity arose, and I was growing more and more annoyed. As his interest in me seemed to grow, so did his antics with bullying other kids. And with "kids", I meant mainly Riddle.

It seemed that whenever I was around, he started harassing whatever permitted victim was in his vacancy by either tripping the person up or gloating at them, all with the support of his friends. Amy in particular, who clearly had a thing for Dennis and went along with everything he did.

Of course, I knew what was happening. By now, it was rather hard not to, as he always kept glancing at me, having that smug expression on his face. I had several times told him to stop, demanded he didn't continue bullying, but nothing I said seemed to work.

I pulled him aside one time and explained how it was bad to do what he did, only for him to continue with even more enthusiasm.

Not only that but his… gifts weren't exactly appreciated either. Apart from the occasional snack I was offered, he also stole toys from other kids, giving them to me. I really wasn't comfortable and continuously kept turning him down. This only led to more drastic measures, which also resulted in the current situation.

Refusing to take his gifts, Dennis tried to come up with other things I would like. I had already told him, bluntly, how I really wasn't interested, and definitely didn't appreciate his efforts. Apparently, he took this as another challenge.

His behaviour was starting to get out of hand, and what was from the beginning a small crush, was turning into something more like an obsession. Which is in itself odd, considering he's only seven-freaking-years-old!

On that note though, every person I had met, I felt like there was something off. Maybe it was because this was a fictional world in reality, but people's reactions really weren't what I expected them to be. It seemed that behind every decision, there was some sort of weird reasoning that I just couldn't follow, and for some people, that let to impulsive decisions and consequences.

In short, people were stupid. Maybe not individually, but as a whole group. Easily, almost too easily, the masses could be swayed. Now, this might just be in the orphanage that people turned on each other so quickly, but I had my suspicions. I had my suspicions that I was not just imagining things and that as the world was fictitious, so was people's reactions in order to appease the plot. A plot I was growing more and more spiteful of.

And if this was what the muggle world was like, then I would hate to see how judging the wizards and witched would be. I might not know much about the Harry Potter world, but I had watched or heard enough from obsessed friends to know that the wizarding world was a prejudiced one.

Back to the problem at hand though. The gift Dennis had finally decided to give me was the last drop.

Returning to my room after having been outside reading quietly on the bench by the building, I was surprised to see Dennis waiting for me.

He stood eagerly by my bed, holding something in his arms, though it was obstructed from view by his hands. Seeing me by the doorframe, hesitant as to what he was doing here and wary of the reason why, he smiled, showing the gap between his two front teeth.

I was beginning to learn that that smile boded no good.

"Eh…" I started, no idea of what to say. Dennis took a step closer to me and I got a quick glimpse of what he was holding. It was something black and small, though I could not yet identify it.

All the while smiling, he suddenly reached out with the thing in his hands, offering it to me. "I got this for you."

Now, that might have been a sweet scene, had this boy not been a sadist and had the gift not been a dead animal. However, as that was not the case, I stumbled back to avoid the bird hanging limp and Dennis persistently followed.

"What the-" I took another step back, wanting desperately to put as much distance between me and the crazy boy as possible. "I don't want it!" My voice was cold and angry, but Dennis just moved closer.

I glared at him, "Get that thing away from me!"

He didn't listen and even though I shouldn't have been so scared of such a young boy, I really couldn't handle dead beings. As was normal. He, however, was not. I tried to keep up my furious facade, but a glance at the bird had me faltering.

Dennis followed me as I backed away, still holding out that thing. "I snapped its neck, but it struggled much and it took some time to catch one," he explained and I stared at him with a mortified face.

Right, he was sick. Speaking of sickness, I felt my own stomach lurch at the sigh of rumbled feathers and black, blank eyes.

Was someone punishing me? I could not remember ever doing something to deserve this, but apparently I had really pissed off someone royally, otherwise, this would surely not be happening.

I took a firmer hold of the book in my hand and suddenly threw it at his face, making him stagger back with a confused, scrunched up face. Before he managed to catch up with what'd just happened, I turned and started sprinting away from the deranged kid. Glancing back as I rounded a corner, I could see him starting to run too, calling after me. "I caught it for you!"

Desperate to get away, I tried to find an adult to hide behind, but it looked like the whole orphanage was empty. With my heart beating madly as I made a turn into another empty corridor, I suddenly I remember why. It was Tuesday and they had gone, with most of the kids, of to the park. I had opted to stay behind, wanting to read in peace by the building instead.

With almost everyone gone for the day, there was no one present to help me and I settled for finding somewhere to hide instead. I refused to touch the dead bird and with him chasing me, it was hard to think clearly.

I could hear him coming closer and cursed my short legs for not keeping up with the pace I wanted. I entertained the thought of hiding in someone else's room but discarded the idea as he would probably soon find me did I choose to do that.

I was just rounding another corner, heading for the kitchen in an aimless pursuit to shake the other boy of my tail when something was suddenly blocking my way, and as I was already running, the momentum kept me on track and I crashed into whatever had appeared before me.

At the impact, I fell back violently, landing hard on my bottom and wincing painfully. I could hear Dennis coming closer and looked up to see what it was that I had bumped in to. Or rather, who.

Tom Riddle sneered down on me.

* * *

_**I seriously feel like my writing-voice changes with every chapter and nothing is really consistent. Any thoughts? **_


	6. Chapter 6

Chapter 6

I had never officially met Tom Riddle, apart from when I first arrived at the orphanage, even though I lived in the same building as him. And it was completely intentional. I kept as far away from him as possible and staying away from him proved even easier as he mostly tried to stay away from everyone else.

I could see his disdain when he watched the other kids and even when talking to adults. It was clear he thought them insignificant, and though that was not a very good way of thinking, it certainly helped me in convincing him I was irrelevant when he already thought so.

Unfortunately, my times of peace appeared to be over as I with a clash finally entered his line of sight. Literally.

The collision that brought me to the floor made Tom stumble back several steps before he eventually regained his balance and looked on me. Panic was beginning to rise within me as I felt the distress of running from one boy only to end up in front of another much, much more dangerous one. This was not my day, huh?

In reality, I really shouldn't be so scared of a child. Even with magical powers and a psychopathic mind, he was still only a _child_. But then again, so did Dumledoor think too, right? At least, I think he did. Point is - Tom managed to fool the adults he was harmless, I could not let him fool me too, not when I knew the truth. Or well, most of the truth. Truth is, I actually don't know so much about Tom apart from him being a complete and utter sociopath unable to love. That's what I gathered from my friends when talking about Harry Potter, at any rate.

So with the information I _did_ possess, the facts all told me to be cautious of Tom. Which was the exact opposite of this situation I found myself in now.

As he sneered down at me, my nervousness took over and I started to blabber out excuses, trying to explain my situation, gesturing wildly with my hands. "Dead bird… he's crazy… I'm really sorry… running… crush… completely deranged…" Tom did not look entertained, and the expression he sent me made me freeze in place, feeling shivers running down my back and my breath got caught in my throat. I was near tears because oh-my-god-I'm-gonna-die.

"So sorry," I whispered, still on the floor with him standing there and looking down on me with those dead, black eyes. They reminded me of the dead bird Dennis caught. I did not like the resemblance, at all.

Tom continued to glare and when he finally said something, his voice was so cold I felt goosebumps upon my arms. "What are you doing?"

I timidly tried to answer him but found the words lodged in my mouth, refusing to come forward. Instead, it sounded like a choked animal croaking desperately and my eyes widened with horror.

Yep, I was definitely going to die. He'd kill me, get rid of all evidence and no one would be the wiser. This was the end. I was done for. Better say my goodbyes now, before it was-

-from behind, the sound of footsteps approaching fast suddenly reminded me of what I had been running from in the first place and brought me out of my internal panic attack.

Dennis, apparently catching sight of Tom, sped up his pace and started yelling threateningly. "Get away from her! Freak!" Said "freak" snapped up his gaze and pinned the other boy down with a bone-chilling glare. His sneer actually made Dennis shrink for some seconds, before straightening up and ignoring all basic instinct that told him to run the other way. Not a bright kid, him.

Instead, Dennis pointed accusingly at the wizard, the dead bird still clutched in a tight grip. "Weirdo! Emma, get away from him! He's a freak!"

If possible, Tom became even more menacing and he took a step forward. As Dennis stood and tried to keep from trembling, Tom slowly raised his hand. The focused look that took over his face created a heavy air around him.

The previously dead bird suddenly gave a shudder. Startled and scared, Dennis dropped it to the ground were it continued to move. Now he looked up at Tom with a fearful gaze.

"Stop it! Stop that!" He tried to order Tom to stop, but the other sadistic boy ignored his shouts and the bird released a cry of its own, stretching its rumpled and broken wings. Dennis staggered back.

With a cruel smile that could've easily won the first prize of villainous grins, Tom commanded the newly arisen bird to attack, forcing Dennis to a retreat. Following the screams of the other boy, Tom let out a laugh of his own, sadistic glee twisting his otherwise handsome albeit very young features.

As the boy disappeared around the corner, chased by the picking and angry bird, Tom turned back to the spot on the floor where I had been sitting, only to find the corridor empty save for himself.

Self-preservation having taken over, I was long gone the second Tom's attention had been directed elsewhere. I was not planning on dying today, or anytime soon.

* * *

The next couple of weeks, I tried to steer clear of Tom's radar as much as possible, avoiding him with a fiery determination that could've moved mountains. Dennis was even warier, but being the stupid young boy that he was, it only took him a little less than a month or so to get over the fact that Tom Riddle had apparently _resurrected_ a bird and commanded it to _attack_ him.

Really, self-preservation did not in any form exist in that boy's vocabulary. I doubt he could even spell it. I, however, had plenty, and the lengths of which I went to avoid Tom were nothing short of great. I tried to be as inconspicuous as possible, making an effort to appear unaware of even his presence. It was decidedly hard, especially as I could feel his eyes boring into me whenever I was around.

Thankfully, however, my ignorant and relaxed attitude seemed to appease him and as his attention gradually got drawn back by Dennis, who was starting to push the incident out of his mind and regain his confidence, and Amy, who started hanging out even more with Dennis, both driven by their mutual goal of making life as hard as possible for Tom.

In my opinion, their efforts completely backfired, as they only created more work for themselves, as well as prematurely dooming themselves with a scary commitment to die. Suicide was not something seven year old kids should indulge in, but they just didn't have the common sense to realize that.

The only good thing that came out of the meeting was that it seemed Dennis was starting to lose his previous creepy interest in me. It was a relief to no longer have to worry about him ambushing me or entertaining his annoying antics and stories.

I was starting to relax more and more, but, as was beginning to seem custom in my new life, I could never catch a real break.

By now, I would be more worried if nothing happened at all for a few weeks.


End file.
